Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin - W.F. Bach: Symphonies, Concerto for harpsichord (2002) CD-Rip

Wilhelm Friedemann Bach’s life was more than tinged with sadness. As the adored eldest son of JS Bach, for whom the composer conceived Book 1 of the Well-tempered Clavier and the Orgelbüchlein, he had a chequered career of under-achievement which eventually degenerated into abject poverty. His wife and child were financially rescued by a benefit concert of Handel’s Messiah in 1785, a year after his death.
In the music of this new disc one can clearly sense the background of this highly gifted but difficult and troubled man. Unlike London Baroque and Richard Egarr’s excellent account of three early keyboard concertos – where WF is brimming with true Bachian invention and fresh virtuosity – the works here are more elusive. The Sinfonia in D is arguably the least interesting piece on the disc, despite its assured command of the gestural world of the Enlightenment; the last movement, in particular, reveals the bold Akademie für Alte Musik as a perfect vehicle for its pin-point demands and quizzical asides.
The central work is the Harpsichord Concerto in E minor from 1767, dedicated to the Saxon Princess Maria Antonia whose musical evenings were an important forum for Bach’s music. It is a substantial work, fascinating in its restless physicality and fleeting lyricism. Raphael Alpermann is a meticulous harpsichordist who threads his intricate solo part through the diverse orchestral interjections with considerable panache. Perhaps the perspective of the harpsichord is too remote for my taste, given that the soloist does not naturally project an effusive personality. There is certainly more fantasy about Egarr in his recording of concertos.
The maverick and unsettled nature of Bach’s music reveals an explorer, grappling to find musical answers around his awesome heritage (a problem which all the Bach sons felt acutely) and the emergent sturm und drang. So it is that the two Adagios and Fugues have clear Mozartian resonances (in fact, Gottfried van Swieten commissioned Mozart to compose a new adagio for the splendid Fugue in F minor here).
It attests to the sheer pedigree of Wilhelm Friedemann: energised chromaticism and syncopations ranging through the keys with mild contempt for those who can only ply their trade with the artless populism of late 18th-century life. The Fugue in D minor is also a riot, as is the fine early Sinfonia in F whose mischievous originality will delight anyone, and the final Minuet has a melody of quite beguiling beauty.
Here and elsewhere, the Berliners go for the jugular. There are a few rough spots but this is responsive and spirited music-making which sympathetically advocates a challenging and enigmatic figure, often of the very first rank.